by Candace Camp
The small man hesitated, his gaze flickering from one man to the other anxiously. Finally he went on. "I saw her lying there on the floor. There was a chair turned over—I think that was the first thud I heard. And Lady Selene—she was lyin' on the floor, on her side, and—and I could see she was all limp. Her head—there was blood all over one side of her head. She'd fallen onto the hearth—her head, at least. The rest of her was on the carpet. But I could see that she was dead." He shivered a little at the memory. "She was staring straight at me, like."
"He had hit her with her clock?"
Owenby nodded. "Yeah, it wasn't very big. He must have picked it up and knocked her in the head with it. And then, I think when she fell, he—he hit her another time or two."
The valet crossed his arms in front of him and glared at Gideon. "It wasn't his fault!"
"Not his fault?" Gideon exploded. "He beat her to death!"
"She drove him to it," Owenby fired back. "She made him mad with jealousy. He knew she was sleeping with his brother—oh, yes, I knew it, too. It was clear the way they was always looking at each other."
"But Lord Jasper wasn't even there," Irene pointed out. "He had left for the army some months prior to that."
"I think it was his letters what set his lordship off. He must have been writing her, and Lord Cecil found them."
"So he killed her?" Rochford asked in disbelief.
"He didn't mean to," Owenby said staunchly. "He lost his head. He said to me, 'Owenby, I think I've killed her. I don't know what happened. I just picked this up and—'" He paused and repeated, "He didn't mean to do it."
"Well, clearly he meant all the rest of it," Gideon growled. "He was thinking well enough to come up with an elaborate plan."
"I thought of most of it, sir," Owenby corrected him, not without a hint of pride. "I told him he should just pretend that she ran away. But he said that would be too big a scandal, he couldn't do that. And—and then he said we could pretend she was abducted. So that's what we did. I wrapped her up in her dressing gown that was lying out on the bed, and I wrapped one or two of her petticoats around her head. And I cleaned up the blood on the hearth with some more petticoats. Then I wrapped up that clock in her nightgown, and we took her downstairs."
"You took her down to the caves?" Rochford asked incredulously. "All that way? At night?"
"Not then, sir," he replied. "There wasn't time. I carried her through the garden and out to the ruins. I stashed her body there, put a few rocks in front of it. And then I came back and took the boy. I took him—I took him to this man I knew."
"In London?" Gideon asked. "You took me to London?"
"No! Not all the way to London. Just to Chipping Camden. There was a chap there that took children you didn't want. And anybody else, either. He wasn't above knocking a fella on the head and taking him to an impress gang. So I took the boy there."
He did not look at Gideon as he said these last few words, as if refusing to look could somehow help him to separate the boy he had given to a child-thief from the man standing in front of him.
Owenby shrugged. "Then I came back, and we did what we'd planned. Lord Cecil acted like they had been kidnapped. And he pretended to give me that necklace and sent me off to deal with the abductors. But I—I went to the ruins instead, and got her and took her to the caves. And I walled her up, so nobody could stumble on her accidentally. And Lord Cecil, he forbade people going there whenever he could, said it was dangerous."
The three of them looked at Owenby. Irene felt numbed by the man's matter-of-fact recital of Lady Selene's murder. She glanced at Gideon, who also seemed drained. His fury, she thought, had worn itself out, crashing into a kind of cold despair in the face of the valet's story.
"But it still does not make sense," Irene protested. "Why did he have you take Gideon away?" Irene asked. "Why would Lord Cecil get rid of his only son? His heir?"
"The boy saw him. He woke up, I guess at the sound of the voices. The nursery's just above her ladyship's room. And he walked in on them. He saw Lord Cecil hit his mother. And he started screaming, too. That's ... that's really when I decided to see what was happening. Lord Cecil knocked him away, trying to shut him up. He was afraid he would waken the household. It knocked him out. And when I came back, well, the boy was still asleep. I think—I think maybe Lord Cecil gave him some laudanum. You know, to keep him asleep. And he told me I would have to get rid of the boy, too, on account of he'd seen ... what he'd seen. He couldn't stay there, where he might decide any day to tell everybody what had happened."
"But his own son!" Irene exclaimed.
"What did it matter anyway?" the valet snarled. He looked at Gideon with something close to hate. "From the day he married her, she had never been faithful to him. His brother wasn't the first, just the last. She had a string of lovers, that one." He stared at Gideon, his loathing almost palpable. "You think you're something, don't you? Well, you're wrong. You're no one, you hear me? You're not the earl's son."
Chapter Twenty-One
"It makes sense," Gideon said calmly.
"What?" Irene looked over at him, startled.
His words were the first he had spoken since they had started the ride back to Radbourne Park. Rochford had tactfully ridden on ahead when they left the valet's cottage, giving Gideon and Irene an opportunity to be alone to discuss the revelations the valet had put before them. But for the first few minutes Gideon had said nothing as he rode, lost in a brown study, and Irene had not wanted to disturb him. He would talk to her when he was ready, she reasoned. However, she had not expected him to say what had just come out of his mouth.
"What makes sense?" she pursued. "I found little about his story that was sensible."
Gideon shrugged. "I am not Lord Cecil's son."
"You don't know that," Irene argued. "All you have is the word of Lord Cecil's valet, and he can have no way of knowing the truth. All he could possibly know is what his employer told him, and we have absolutely no proof that it is true. Even Lord Cecil could not have been sure. The picture Lord Jasper painted of Lady Selene is a far cry from the wanton whom Owenby claims she was. Lord Cecil was doubtless trying to justify his own wicked actions by saying that. He probably felt it made it less a sin to murder her."
"But it makes sense," Gideon said stubbornly, turning his head to look at her. "We have been stymied this whole time by the fact that a man got rid of his own child. We discounted the idea that my father murdered my mother, because we knew he would not get rid of his son and heir. But it would not be so hard, would it, if he knew that I was not really his son?"
"He got rid of you to save his own selfish hide," Irene retorted. "It was cowardice, that was all. After all, if he really thought that you were not his son, he could have repudiated you years ago. He could have charged your mother with adultery and obtained a divorce."
"But that would have entailed a messy scandal, something the family wouldn't have wanted. Moreover, he would have been holding himself up to public ridicule if he laid such charges at my mother's feet, so he went along with the pretense that I was his son. But then, when the opportunity arose for him to get rid of me, as well as wife, he seized it. Had I really been his son, I doubt he would have done so. I was only four. He could have kept me from telling my story, and eventually I would have forgotten it, just as I forgot my childhood. But he saw the chance to get rid of me, and he took it."
"But what about the way you look? And the mark on your back? Lady Odelia said you have the look of the Lilles."
He curved his lip. "Do I? My hair is dark, yes, but my eyes are green. I don't think anyone would mistake Rochford and me for brothers. He is taller, more slender."
"Well, you are not his brother," Irene retorted in some exasperation. "You are cousins, and only second cousins at that."
"Do you not recall how my mother's maid said that I looked like my mother. That I had her eyes? That everyone went on about how I looked like a Bankes. But she thought I resembled my mothe
r more. Lady Selene's hair was black, as well. And as for that mark, it is a birthmark. Not something I inherited. All it did was prove that I was the boy they had thought was abducted. It does not prove that I am a Bankes."
"Well, there is nothing to prove you are not!" Irene snapped.
"Don't you see?" Gideon asked, sounding weary to the bone. "It explains why I feel so strongly that I do not belong here. I don't. I am not a nobleman. My blood is probably that of—of one of the footmen. Or the solicitor in the village—or God only knows who. I am not the Earl of Radbourne. And I cannot pretend to be."
"What are you saying?" Irene asked. "Are you going to—to give up your title?"
"Timothy should be the earl," Gideon said, setting his jaw. "I cannot deprive him of what is by rights his. Do you think I am that sort of person?"
"No. I think you are the sort of person who dislikes aristocrats so much that he wants to deny being one."
"I am not one," he insisted.
"You do not know that."
"I know," he said softly. "I have known, deep down, from the moment Rochford first contacted me."
"How? You could not possibly know?"
"I know because I feel it inside."
"That is not enough!" Irene cried. "That isn't knowledge."
Gideon looked over at Irene and pulled his horse to a stop. They were almost to the house; they could see it, rising above the gardens, its windows glinting in the setting sunlight.
He dismounted and reached up to help her down from her horse, then walked over to the low stone wall and stood looking at the house for a long moment before turning back to her.
"I know it," he repeated. "In my blood, in my bones. I am not an earl. Rochford is that kind of man, the sort who can trace his bloodlines back centuries."
Irene came up to stand beside him. "So was my father."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Simply that not all noblemen are the same as Rochford. Like all men, they come in all shapes, sizes and characters. Lord Cecil was the legitimate Earl of Radbourne, and he did not hesitate to kill his wife."
"I know they are not all good. God knows I hope I am a better man than my fath—than Lord Cecil. But I am not a member of ... that group. I am not a man who lacks confidence—I have been successful at whatever I set my hand to. But I do not have the quality that every peer I have ever known had, your father included. That certainty, that air of knowing that they were born to high position."
"I think the quality you are talking about is arrogance," Irene told him drily. "And I do not think that one is born to it. I think it is something one is raised to be. You grew up in an entirely different way. That does not change your blood. You are the same man, no matter who your father was."
He nodded. "I know. But it is scarcely fair to Timothy. He is my father's son. He should be the Earl of Radbourne, not I. He would have been, if Rochford had not found me. I have to tell them. I have to give up the title."
"You are a very good man," Irene told him, slipping her hand into his.
"I have rarely been accused of that," he answered, with a faint smile, but when he looked at her, she saw that his eyes were troubled, and he let go of her hand and took a step back from her. "I will no longer be the earl. And I will never know who my father really is. I—" he paused, then continued in a rush, his face set "—I cannot hold you to your promise to marry me. Fortunately, we have not told anyone other than my family, so you will not have to worry about a scandal attaching to your name."
Cold settled onto Irene's heart. She looked at him for a long moment, struggling to speak without bursting into tears. "I beg your pardon? You no longer wish to marry me?"
Gideon's mouth twisted. "No! Of course I still wish to marry you. But I would be a cad to hold you to your promise if I can no longer offer you the life I had offered you. You would not be the Countess of Radbourne but merely the wife of a businessman, and I know how little the wealth I have matters compared to name and family."
"Oh!" Irene stiffened, fury sweeping over her. She stepped forward and slapped him sharply.
Gideon's eyes widened. "What the devil?" He brought his hand up wonderingly to his stinging cheek.
"How dare you even suggest that I—after all I have said to you—after last night!" Irene raged, her eyes glittering. "Do you think that I put a price on my love? That I gave myself to you because of your title? I don't give a fig for your title! Or your wealth! I wouldn't have cared if you were an earl or a rag picker! I came to you because I loved you!"
She whirled and ran back to her horse, then mounted and tore away, leaving Gideon staring after her, openmouthed.
* * * * *
She rode back to the house on a wave of fury, paying no attention to Gideon shouting her name. She heard the sounds of his horse pounding after her, but she was the better rider, with the better horse, and she outran him to the stables. Hopping off without waiting for assistance, she tossed the reins to the groom and ran for the house. Her chest was tight with fury and pain. She could not wait for Gideon and talk to him now; she only hoped that she could make the sanctuary of her bedchamber before she burst into tears.
She raced up the stairs but did not make it to her room. Jasper, hearing her steps, popped out of the small sitting room beside his mother's bedchamber, a worried frown creasing his forehead.
"Lady Irene!" He looked past her. "Where is Gideon? Is he—"
"He's fine," Irene replied shortly. "I am sorry. If you will excuse me ..."
She tried to turn away toward her room, but there was the sound of running footsteps on the stairs and Gideon burst into the hall.
"Irene!"
"Gideon!" his uncle exclaimed, and his frown eased. "Thank God. You are all right."
Gideon stopped and looked at Lord Jasper, then at Irene, his face a study in frustration. Finally he said, "Yes, I am fine. I am sorry to have worried you."
"Rochford told us what Owenby said," Jasper went on. "Your grandmother and Lady Odelia are in the sitting room. Please, come in and talk with us for a moment."
"I will leave you to talk about this in private," Irene said quickly, once again starting toward her room.
"No!" Gideon grasped her firmly by the arm. "You will come with us."
Jasper blinked in surprise at Gideon's words and fierce expression.
"I beg your pardon—" Irene began, her eyes lighting with an even brighter fire.
"Pray, do not spew your venom on me just yet," Gideon told her quickly. "I promise you, you will have ample opportunity to do so in a few minutes. But first, I must settle this. And I do not intend to have you locking yourself away in your room so you don't have to face me."
Irene's brows shot up, and she replied caustically, "Face you? You think I am afraid to face you?"
A grin touched Gideon's face and left just as quickly. "Nay. I do not. "Tis why I said it. Please, just come with me while I tell them. And then we will have this out."
Irene gave in with little grace and walked with the two men into the sitting room, where Lady Odelia and Lady Pansy sat, waiting for them. Gideon's grandmother occupied the corner of the sofa, looking wilted. Her cheeks were streaked with the tracks of tears, and she clutched a balled-up handkerchief in her hand, using it from time to time to dab at her eyes.
"Oh, Gideon," she wailed when she saw him. "It can't be true." She began to cry again. "That dreadful little man. He is lying, I know it."
Gideon sighed and raked a hand back through his hair. "Lord Jasper said Rochford told you about Owenby." He hesitated, then went on. "Did he relate what Owenby said about ... my parentage?"
Lady Odelia's eyebrows lifted almost comically, but her sister only looked confused.
"Your parentage?" Pansy repeated. "I don't understand."
Lord Jasper took a step forward, frowning. "What are you talking about? The duke said only that Owenby confessed to hiding Selene's body after Cecil killed her. What else did he tell you?"
"That Lord Cecil
was not my father," Gideon replied. "I am sorry. I do not mean to cause any of you further distress. But that is what he said. And ... I think it is probably true."
Lady Pansy let out a soft little mewl of distress. "No! No! It is not true. Those rumors are false. Yes, it was some time before Selene got with child. But it is clear that you are Cecil's son. Anyone with eyes in his head can see that."
"Yes, you have the look of the Lilles," Lady Odelia added authoritatively, some of her old starch back in her voice. "Just look at Rochford. Look at your uncle."
Irene turned automatically to look at Jasper, as the old woman demanded. She stiffened, her eyes narrowing. Jasper was gazing at Gideon with an expression of pain and regret so sharp that it jolted her. She pivoted slowly to stare at Gideon beside her, an idea forming in her head.
"Of course!" she exclaimed without thinking. She wondered how she could not have realized it before.
Everyone in the room turned to look at her, and Irene blushed.
"I— I'm sorry. But Gideon ..."
"What?" He looked at her in some concern. "Is something the matter?"
"Well, um, I think—may we speak privately?"
"Of course. But first I must finish what I came here to say."
"But—wait—" Irene stopped, glancing over at Lord Jasper.
"I think what your future wife wishes to say is this," Gideon's uncle told him. "I believe she just realized why you have the look of the Lilles and of the Bankes, as well. Look at me and you will know what you will look like in twenty-some years."
Gideon stared at him speechlessly.
"Owenby did speak the truth when he said that Cecil was not your father," Jasper went on. "I am."
"You—" Gideon replied blankly.
Jasper nodded. "Yes. I—I have wanted to tell you many times since you returned. But I knew how you felt about us all. I feared that such news would cause you to despise us even more. Especially me. I went away and left you with him. Left both of you with him. I was a fool and a coward. I swear that I would not have done so had I had the slightest inkling what he was capable of doing. I never dreamed— He was not fond of you. He knew, I think, that you were not his. I am sure he suspected that I was your father. Any fool could have seen that I was head over heels in love with Selene from the moment I met her."